Alex's Prequel
by OnceOrTwiceAMinuteAllSummer
Summary: Well, it's a little unfair that everyone else has one...


**A/N: Thought Alex deserved a prequel, seeing as she's officially a Honolulu Heights resident now. **

**BHBHBHBHBHBHBHBHBHBH**

"Who the fuck are you?"

I glare at the bloke who's been following me since I left the bar. My voice bounces off the bricks of the alley and it panics me that despite my cutting words I sound scared, the slight tremor in my voice making me sound like a defiant child. I take in his ruffled, thick, brown hair, his wide, baby blue eyes, his slim, hunched figure wrapped in a stylish suit, _and,_ w_ell, at least I'll have a good description for crime watch. _

He doesn't answer, just stares at me dumbly, hands clenching and unclenching rapidly. I spin round, pulling the collar of my jacket closer to my neck, and walk hastily away. Jesus, am I a magnet for weirdos or something? I wonder if he knows Hal. They might be in some kind of club where it's cool to stare mutely at women and generally freak them the fuck out.

It's like being doused in ice water when I feel his hand clench around my arm and pull me roughly to face him.

"Oi! Get off!"

His eyes widen, hand momentarily squeezing my arm tighter in a weirdly soothing way _considering that the creep's just cornered me in a deserted alley in the middle of the night_, and I don't know whether to feel threatened or reassured as his fingers bite bluntly into my leather clad arm. I glance down at his hand, pale and shaking slightly. His gaze settles oddly on my – wait, is he staring at my boobs? Wanker!

"Erm, can you get off me? Because frankly I've had a shit night, and I want to go back to my crappy caravan, sulk, and maybe drink some more, and not being funny, but you don't really figure in any of those plans darlin'."

The scrawny twat doesn't let go – no, he pulls me closer, and sniffs. _Fucking sniffs. _

"Christ, yes," He breathes in my ear, and his voice sounds gruff, with a slight childish stumble over the 'r' that makes him even more fucking creepy, "I understand what he sees in you."

I flinch away, pulling my arm from his grasp, and stumble backwards – into a brick wall. He quckly follows me and crowds me against it, placing a hand either side of my head and leaning in.

I manage to scream out "HELP! SOME WEIRD BASTARD'S GOT ME COR-" before he shoves his disgusting, sweaty palm across my mouth, and presses even closer to me so we're lined up, chest to chest, stomach to stomach, and I can't struggle, I can barely move and I close my eyes and will myself somewhere, anywhere but here in this crappy alley.

"I'm sorry, but you're a distraction I can't afford. He doesn't need you. He has me. I'm doing him a favour. I'm helping him shed his human skin. And that means shedding you."

I open my eyes to find him staring directly at me. His other hand falls to me knee, and I feel him ball the fabric of my fucking stupid dress _and really why the hell did I even bloody bother I could be in the caravan now with Dad and the boys- _

Through my panic I register that he's still talking to me, and dragging his hand further and further up my thigh, across the cheap spandex leggings I picked up from town earlier.

"Tell me, have you been with him?" He whispers to me, "Has he...has he fucked you?"

I literally don't have the foggiest what he's talking about, but I'm barely concentrating; I'm much more bothered about the little strip of street I can see off to my right. He swallows roughly, and I feel something stirring against my thigh that I'm determined not to think about because if I do I'll be sick. He carries on panting all over my neck and inching his hand slowly up my thigh and I swear to _God if I could get free for just a second I'd kick this fucker so hard in the balls he'd never find them again._

I suddenly register my face feels wet, and realise that I'm crying. Fuck, I am, tears streaming down my cheeks and onto his hand, chest heaving, shoulders trembling, the works. I don't want to give him the satisfaction, but I can't help it. I don't want him to hurt me, I don't want him near me, and it's slightly worrying that right now I'd even take Hal as a knight in shining armour.

"God, you smell delicious, I can, _fuck, _I can almost _smell _him on you -"

"Cutler?"

We both turn to the right in shock, and I allow myself a glimmer of hope. The guy is built like a brick shit house, and has one of the dodgiest beards I've ever seen, but if he knows this 'Cutler', it follows that he knows he's a complete psycho, and will therefore rip said psycho away from me and allow me to kick the little shit in the kidneys.

"Can we go already? I thought we were just gunna grab the bitch and leave."

Wait. What? There's a plan? A plan, involving grabbing me_ and although I realise that it's incredibly vain of me I can't help but think that I may be the bitch in question_, and what, taking me somewhere? But, where? And what the hell would anybody want with me?

Cutler's hand falls from my inner thigh and slides to my throat. His thumb presses against my pounding pulse, _thumpthumpthump, a steady baseline that I realise I've taken far too much for granted, _and for the first time since Mum left, I feel completely helpless.

When he talks, I feel the slight stubble around his lips rasp against my neck, and I feel repulsed.

"Don't worry, it won't take long. He told me Rachel only lasted a few hours. I doubt you have her staying power."


End file.
